Hair Worship

Playful lovers tangled on soft sheets. Lips wandered, slow and teasing. She pressed her tongue deep into the hollow of his armpit and licked like it was candy. He did the same—hungry, wet—lapping at her cunt the way children taste dripping cones. They never rushed. Marina savored each dark hair on Stone’s body, pressing kisses, leaving small bites. When her tongue finally slid into the tight, warm crevice under his arm, he moaned and spread wider. She ground her pussy against his flexed biceps, slick folds catching on coarse hair, cunt leaving glossy streaks. He gripped his own cock, jerking slow, watching every slick grind. Stone’s mouth never left her slit. He spread her open with two fingers, licking between the folds, gathering juice and feeding it back to her skin. His spit mixed with her cream, a shiny film that caught the low light. She moved up again, straddling his bicep, rubbing until the hair was matted and wet. Then lowered once more, licking him where sweat pooled—clean, briny, warm. Both of them tasting, fucking, and feeding, a slick, rhythmic feast that went on in deep, gasping silence.